


wash me clean, set me free

by MercuryWaters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Cas getting the sorry he deserves, Coda, Cuddling, Everyone is a Destiheller, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Requited Love, Sam is a Destiheller, Sharing a Bed, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), The Empty (Supernatural), canon compliant up until 15x19 I think, good! communication! skills!, no beta we die like me watching the finale and realizing it wasn't a joke, not much though, side helping of sam and cas friendship because they're BFFs, some of the tags apply to the last two chapters sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryWaters/pseuds/MercuryWaters
Summary: Castiel’s head tilted to the side in confusion.Dean sighed, exhausted, and then took one of Castiel’s hands in an attempt to get his message across.Castiel did not take the hint.Rather, he stared down at their joined hands in bewilderment.Dean huffed out a laugh, hopelessly endeared by the angel. Baby in a trench coat indeed.“I love you,” Dean said again, but this time without the anger. His words were palpably intense and honest. He was determined to get through to him.(Or, another finale fix-it! Castiel is saved, Dean gets to say it back, Sam is happy, Jack can still drink beer with his family from time to time, and no one dies!)
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 49
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is almost finished! I just have to write one more chapter and do some editing, so it should be up and completed within the week.
> 
> title from baptize me by x ambassadors & jacob banks

Castiel had no real conception of how long he’d been here.

Time didn’t seem to exist in the Empty. For all he knew, it could have been minutes or decades, seconds or centuries.

The Empty was darkness and silence, the complete absence of anything tangible or real.

It was absolute sensory deprivation.

During his time here, Castiel had fortunately discovered a singular weapon that he could wield against the void: his thoughts.

Despite his lack of vision or hearing, he still had his mind. He still had the ability to imagine. To imagine himself elsewhere, surrounded by the people that he longed to be with. His thoughts were the one thing the Empty couldn’t take away from him. He would retain that one small weapon, that one small comfort, for the eternity he was destined to spend here.

He didn't regret the decision that sent him here, not for a moment, but if he would be here forever, he would afford himself whatever solace he could find.

Lately, his thoughts seemed to play in a constant loop. A slideshow of verdant pastures masquerading as eyes. The comforting smell of leather and earth. The sound of a deep voice, hardened by years of fighting a war that was never its to fight.

If he was feeling particularly brave, he’d let himself think of all his features— his face, his scent, his voice— all at once. He’d let himself think of _him_ , wholly and completely. 

Right now, he was focused on him like a prayer. He used his image and his voice to distract himself from the misery and emptiness inherent to this place. To distract himself from the knowledge that he would be spending the rest of his existence here.

Out of the void, a sudden breeze grazed his face like a whisper of wind, taking him away from his musing. He sat up, confused. The sensation felt strange against his skin, not having felt anything since he landed here.

He released a pained breath and opened his eyes, observing no change from when they had been closed. Darkness and desolation, as per usual.

A moment passed, and then, out of the abyss— he saw light.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination, a desperate attempt to make something out of nothing, but then— he _heard_ something. It grew louder and louder until it became a cacophony, chaotic and unrelenting.

It was as if he had been pulled out of the vast nothingness and placed straight into a wind tunnel, harsh noises whistling past his ears. It was almost too much to withstand, the volume a stark contrast to the silence with which he had become familiar.

But suddenly, amidst the chaos, he heard a voice.

 _His_ voice.

“Cas?” it shouted, “Cas, can you hear me?”

Castiel looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. This had to be a trick. The Shadow playing cruel jokes on him yet again, as if he wasn’t already as broken as he could possibly be.

It wasn’t actually him. It _couldn’t_ be him.

“Leave me alone,” he cried, his own voice sounding foreign after some time of nonuse. “I know this isn’t real.”

“I can hear him!” The voice said, muffled, as the words weren’t directed toward the angel. The enthusiasm and liveliness underlying his words felt out of place in the Empty. 

The light grew brighter, and Castiel could finally make out the shape of it. It was a glowing schism against the blackness of the space. An indistinct fissure, growing larger every second, like fabric splitting open as a seam rips apart.

“Cas, listen to me,” the voice said, and Castiel closed his eyes against the familiarity and comfort it brought him. “This is real. We’re getting you out of there. You need to come to me.”

Castiel shook his head and curled into himself, covering his ears with his hands like a child.

“Why are you doing this to me? I thought you wanted silence!” he shouted helplessly.

“Cas, it’s me!” the voice said in desperation, “It’s _me_. I swear it’s me,” it paused, and exhaled painfully. “I’m doing this because I need you, and I’ll be damned if I let you rot away in there for all eternity.”

“This can’t be—”

“Jack can’t hold the portal open for much longer, Cas. You're gonna have to trust me.” There was the sound of another indistinct conversation from the other side of the schism. “I need you to grab my hand."

The angel tried to gather himself. He looked down at his hands, then turned them over, examining every faint line etched into his palms. _Was this reality or was it all in his head?_

In all likelihood, this was a trick, but he couldn’t help but hope that it wasn’t.

He thought over his options and decided that he had nothing to lose by trying. Even if there was only a minute chance that this was real, seeing his family again was worth the shot. 

Seeing _him_ again was definitely worth the shot.

He tried his best to stand up, unsteady with the sensory overload he was currently experiencing. He watched in disbelief as a hand shot out of the rift.

“Now, Cas!”

The light had become overwhelming, radiating intense whiteness into the Empty. It felt fundamentally wrong, invasive in this space that wasn’t designed to bear anything apart from nothingness. Castiel closed his eyes against the brightness.

“I can’t!” he shouted, unable to see.

“You can,” the voice replied. “Just follow my voice.”

And so he did. He kept his eyes shut tightly, the intensity of the light too much to handle, and let the voice guide him closer to its source. It called out his name, over and over, until finally— finally, Castiel had reached it.

“I’m right here.” Apparently, the voice could sense his presence, despite its inability to see into the Empty. The barrier between nothing and everything had blurred with the opening of the portal. “Take my hand, Cas.”

Castiel took it, and he was yanked out of the oblivion and into the light.

A world of animation and vibrancy swirled in front of him like swatches of color blending together on a palette. It was a beautiful contrast to the nihility he was used to, but it was also a complete inundation of all the sensations he had been deprived of for so long. He felt dizzied with it.

The angel felt arms wrap around him tightly, holding up the entirety of his weight.

His own arms hung limply to his sides. He wasn’t quite aware of himself but thought he might feel tears on his face. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” the voice said, steady and calming.

Except it was no longer just a voice. It was no longer just a disembodied imitation of him.

“Dean?” he asked, the name coming out broken and desperate, yet cautiously hopeful.

“It's me. I’m here.”

Those four words were all the assurance Castiel needed. His arms found their way around Dean’s waist, and he sobbed into his neck, the intensity of the situation threatening to overtake him.

“Hey,” Dean said gently, “you’re alright, everything’s alright. I’m here.”

He felt Dean’s hand against his lower back, circling there with soothing pressure.

“Dean, is he injured?” another voice, Sam, asked from somewhere nearby. Castiel hadn’t gotten his bearings yet, currently able to focus only on the sound of Dean’s voice and the feeling of his body against his own.

Dean tensed, as if just now realizing that this may be a possibility. He tried to pull back to examine him but soon discovered that Castiel couldn’t stand on his own. With a panicked gesture, he signaled Sam to help him. The brothers each took one of the angel’s arms, walking on either side of him to assist him to a couch. 

Once there, Dean knelt in front of him and took his face in his hands, shifting it from left to right to check for wounds.

“Cas, are you hurt?”

The angel couldn’t form a response.

Dean didn’t let that deter him. He began to frantically survey Castiel’s body for injury, searching beneath his trench coat and on every square inch of his person for blood.

A few minutes into his full body scan, he turned back to Sam. “I don’t see anything.”

They traded looks of relief, but also confusion, unable to understand why Castiel was in such poor shape.

Dean’s hands returned to cup his face, his expression one of obvious concern. “Cas?”

Dean was fading in and out of Castiel’s vision. He was barely holding on to consciousness.

Apparently, that much was obvious.

“Hey, none of that. You gotta stay with me, man.”

Castiel wanted to, he wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open.

He was faintly aware of a frenzied conversation taking place around him.

“Jack, what’s wrong with him?” Sam asked, clearly distressed.

“I’m... not sure,” came Jack’s voice, “Physically, he’s fine. I think he’s just exhausted from the inter-dimensional travel.” He squinted at Castiel’s wilted form. “And potentially in shock.”

Dean and Sam stared at him.

“He’s tired,” Jack rephrased.

Dean shook his head. "He can't be," he said gruffly. "He doesn't sleep."

"No, not normally, but these are special circumstances. His energy's been zapped by the Empty. He needs to recharge."

“Okay, so we let him sleep," Sam offered.

“No chance in hell we’re doing that.”

“Dean—”

“No, Sam," Dean snapped. "It’s not up for debate. What if he doesn’t wake up? We’re not—” He turned back to Castiel, and his eyes softened. He carefully brushed back some of the angel’s hair, which had become plastered to his forehead in an unruly mess during the escape. The soothing motion only brought Castiel closer to sleep, and he leaned into Dean’s hand. “I’m not risking it.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed. “Look at him. He needs to rest.” 

Even in his haze, Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him. He could feel Dean stroking his cheek softly, as if it were made of porcelain.

“If you don’t let him rest, he’ll pass out, Dean. He’s going to sleep either way. Just let him.”

Dean shut his eyes tightly, thinking over his options.

Unfortunately, Sam was right. He had none. As much as Castiel wanted to listen to Dean, he was fading fast and would be unconscious soon, regardless of whether he allowed it.

He watched passively as Dean turned back to Jack. “Kid,” he croaked. “Tell me he’ll wake up if we let him sleep. Tell me he won’t—” he cut himself off, pained. “We can’t lose him again.”

Castiel felt his eyes grow heavy with the strenuous effort to stay awake, his consciousness ebbing away by the second.

“We won’t lose him, Dean. I promise.”

Dean nodded, released a breath, then turned back to Castiel. His face appeared out of focus in front of him.

“You can sleep now, Cas. It’s alright.”

Having secured the permission he had been seeking, Castiel surrendered to his exhaustion and let himself fade into sleep. The last thing he remembered seeing was the worry behind the green eyes staring down at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel blinked as his surroundings slowly came into focus.

He sluggishly registered dim lighting and a brick wall, then glanced down to discover a dull pink blanket tucked neatly around his body. A few pictures and weapons adorned the walls sporadically, and to his left, he found a photograph sitting atop a desk. He squinted to make out the image, eventually realizing that it depicted Mary Winchester and a young Dean.

He rubbed over his eyes, trying to clear his vision. 

He was at the bunker. In Dean’s bedroom. In Dean’s _bed_.

He began to vaguely recall his rescue, memories of being pulled out of the Empty flashing through his mind.

His eyes wandered to the bedside table. There was another framed picture there, but this one, he didn't recognize. He was pretty sure that it was a new addition to Dean's decor. He looked more closely, only to realize that it was a picture of _himself_. He wasn't sure when it was taken, or who took it, but it was definitely him. In the photo, he stood in the library of the bunker, smiling at something out of the camera's range.

“Cas?” a voice pulled him out of his pondering.

He turned to his right and found Sam sitting in an armchair that had been pulled to his bedside. A book sat in his lap, loosely held, like his arms had gone lax as soon as he had seen Castiel’s eyes open. His face was full of hope, but also fear, like he couldn’t quite believe that the angel was truly awake.

“Hello, Sam,” he said, his voice a bit groggy. “It’s good to see you.”

Sam released a shocked laugh, then, without warning, catapulted himself on top of Castiel, his book clattering to the ground. He hugged him tightly, and— even though he could barely breathe— Castiel found himself laughing joyously. He was so indescribably happy to see his friend in this familiar place that felt so much like home. So glad to be far, far away from the Empty.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Sam said, pulling away. He kept a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed. It looked like he may have been crying, but the angel wouldn’t mention it. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Castiel said as Sam assisted him into a seated position. “How have you been?”

Sam scoffed. “I should be the one asking you that, Cas. You just survived a two-month stay with a cosmic entity. How are _you_? Do you feel okay?”

Castiel’s eyes shifted downward in contemplation. _Two months_. He had been in the Empty for two whole months. He couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired during that time.

“I feel fine," his voice came out rasped, his throat dry. "A little overwhelmed, but otherwise fine.” Sam nodded, then grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand, offering it to Castiel. He wordlessly accepted it, took a drink, then continued. “Sam,” he said hesitantly, “what happened after I died? How did you get me out of the Empty?”

Sam, having expected this exact line of questioning, cleared his throat and sat back down.

“Jack. He— well, he became God. I mean, it’s kind of a long story, obviously, but that’s the Sparknotes version.”

Castiel tilted his head, confused. “Sparknotes?”

“It’s—” Sam shook his head, then sighed. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, Jack did it! I’ll let him fill you in on more of the technical details, but he was amazing, Cas. He beat Chuck and saved the world.”

Castiel felt pride bloom in his chest. He always knew that Jack could do it. He only wished he could have been by his side when he finally did.

“And he’s… alive?” he asked, a bit incredulous that Jack hadn’t been forced to pay the ultimate price to save the universe, as that seemed to be a pattern that ran in the family.

“He’s alive, Cas.” Sam smiled as Castiel released a breath of relief. “He’s the one that figured out how to get you out of the Empty. It took him a little longer than anyone wanted it to… he sort of had to learn how to open portals between dimensions while simultaneously restoring order on Earth. Apparently, even when you’re God, things take time.” Sam laughed a bit to himself at the ridiculousness of his life, but his expression soon became apologetic. “But we got to you as soon as we could, Cas—”

“Sam, it’s okay.” Castiel interrupted, “I never expected—” He backtracked, closing his eyes against painful memories of the Empty.

Sam frowned. “Never expected what?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s not of import. I just thought that I would be there forever. Two months is nothing.”

Sam's frown deepened with Castiel’s words.

“Sure, two months is better than forever, but still— Cas, you knew that we’d try to get you out, right?”

A beat passed with neither of them saying a thing.

Castiel sighed. “I didn’t think it was possible,” he replied honestly, and then promptly changed the subject, “Is Jack still here?”

Sam looked reluctant to drop it, but ultimately, he did. “No, but he said he’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Castiel nodded, then sat back, trying to process all this new information. It was a lot to take in, but his mind wandered for other reasons.

As glad he was to see Sam again, Castiel found himself absently searching for somebody else. Somebody else that was notably absent.

If he was being completely honest, he had been searching for him from the moment he had woken up.

He casually glanced around the room as though the person he sought would appear from behind a piece of furniture, revealing they’d been here the whole time.

Sam grinned conspiratorially. “Who you lookin’ for?”

“What?” His head snapped back up to Sam. “No one.”

Sam leveled him with a knowing look, amused. “ _Cas_. I know you’re looking for Dean. It’s okay.”

“No, no,” Castiel said in a rush, feeling guilty for making him feel unwanted. “Sam, I’m so happy to see you. I missed you so much.”

“I know.” Sam stood up and grabbed his book from where it had fallen earlier. “But you’d rather see Dean,” he said, unfazed. “It’s alright, Cas. I understand. _Profound bond_ and all. I get it.” He had air-quoted ‘profound bond’ with a grin.

Castiel frowned. “Sam, I’m serious. You’re— you’re so important to me. I hope you know that.”

“I know, Cas.” His tone was sincere. “You’re important to me, too. But I also know that you want to see him.”

Castiel smiled apologetically. “Is he— he’s okay, right?”

“He’s fine.” He patted Castiel’s blanket-covered shin in a comforting gesture. “Just sleep deprived. He’s been at your bedside for four straight days. Refused to leave. I finally pried him away about fifteen minutes ago. Forced him to move his legs and go get something to eat. He looked like he was ready to kill me.”

Castiel’s heart swelled in his chest at the thought. He had missed him so much. Grumpiness and all.

“Cas.” Castiel’s eyes flitted back up to Sam at the hesitance in his voice. “Dean— he was pretty torn up when the Empty took you. I don’t know how you two left things, but he was a mess. I mean, you were dead, so obviously none of us were doing well, but he was a _mess_.”

That was not what Castiel had wanted to hear. He had wanted Dean to be happy after he was gone. He had wanted him to save the world, then move on and build a life for himself apart from saving people and hunting things. Apart from the family business.

“What did he tell you?”

Sam shrugged. “Just that you summoned the Empty to save him, and that it took you.”

Castiel exhaled slowly, internally debating what to tell him. Dean had apparently excluded Castiel’s confession from the narrative when he told Sam what had happened in the dungeon. 

Maybe it wasn’t his place to tell him, but Castiel eventually settled for honesty. This was Sam. His best friend. His brother. He deserved the truth and nothing less.

“I told him that I loved him.”

“You— you did _what_?” Sam sputtered.

“Told him that I loved him. To summon the Empty so that the Shadow would take Billie.”

For a moment, Sam simply stared at him.

“And _you_ ,” he said with a stunned look, supplying the words that Castiel had failed to mention.

“And me.”

Sam brought his hand up to his chin, scrubbing over his stubble in an apparent attempt to gather himself.

“ _That’s_ how you summoned the Empty? Damn, Cas,” he said with a laugh. “No wonder he’s been a zombie for the last two months.”

At that, Castiel felt off-kilter, like maybe Sam didn’t approve of his confession. Maybe he didn’t approve of the feelings he had for Dean.

The thought was short-lived. Only seconds later, Sam looked back to the angel with a radiant smile on his face, then bent down to pull him into another warm embrace.

“Dude, you sure know how to make an exit.” He squeezed him impossibly tighter. “I’m so happy for you. I’ve been waiting for this moment for twelve fricken years!”

Castiel blinked in confusion. “You have?”

Sam tensed and pulled back, a flat look on his face. “I’ve spent over a decade of my life third-wheeling for two people that are practically married but refuse to talk about their feelings,” he said with no emotion. “Yes, I’ve been waiting.”

The angel felt the ground shift beneath him with this revelation.

“You… you knew?”

“Cas,” Sam sighed, “everyone knew. And I do mean _everyone_. Friends and foes alike.”

Castiel looked to the side, his lips pouted in contemplation of this news.

“Oh."

Sam laughed again and walked toward the door. “I’ll go get him. He’ll kill me if he finds out I didn’t get him as soon as you woke up.”

He was almost out of the room, but turned at the last minute, his hand gripped to the doorframe.

“Oh, and Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for risking your life to protect my big brother.” He paused. “ _Again_.”

A corner of Castiel’s lips quirked up.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is the reunion! woohooooo


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Sam had exited the room, Castiel found himself wringing his hands, inexplicably nervous about seeing Dean.

Well, not _inexplicably_. He knew exactly why he was feeling anxious, and it had everything to do with what he had told him when they last parted.

_I love you._

The words echoed through his mind like a prayer. At the time they were uttered, the words were his last, dying hope. That Dean would understand just how deeply Castiel had cared for him. Now, the words threatened to suffocate him. He had no idea what to expect from Dean, but he instinctually feared his reaction.

_I love you._

Suddenly, the blanket, tucked tightly around him, felt less like a comfort and more like a cage. He hastily kicked it off, detangling his legs, and stood up, which, in hindsight, wasn’t the best idea.

He immediately felt dizzy, his vision darkening in his periphery. Apparently, he hadn’t fully recovered from his escape.

He felt himself starting to fall in the opposite direction of the bed. _Fantastic._ He was headed swiftly toward the concrete ground. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

It never came.

Instead, he faintly heard a “Woah, woah, woah,” and felt hands gripped around his waist, catching him without a second to spare before his inevitable demise.

He was being held up by somebody.

“Are you alright?”

Not just somebody.

“Cas?”

He would recognize the voice anywhere.

_Dean._

“Let’s get you back to the bed,” he said gently, helping guide the angel there. Castiel was deposited on the edge of the mattress, and he tried to collect himself. His vision returned slowly.

Dean was kneeling in front of him, his hand on Castiel’s thigh. His skin burned underneath the point of contact.

Dean's eyes were just as worried as they were when Castiel had passed out after being rescued.

He wasn’t sure what to say. There was too much, too many things that he needed to tell him. He settled for his go-to phrase.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled, and Castiel took it as a win. 

“Hey, Cas.”

He squeezed his thigh, and Castiel thought he could feel a current travel through him in response like a live wire.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel simply nodded.

“Fuck,” Dean exhaled in relief. He stood a bit, only to pull Castiel into an embrace. The hold was a little awkward, with the angel seated and Dean hunched over. Somehow, it didn’t matter. He felt like he was being magically put back together every second that Dean held him.

“You scared the hell out of me, man,” he said quietly into Castiel’s neck.

Guilt curled in his stomach uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

He felt a breathy laugh against his skin. “Don’t apologize.” Dean paused, then pulled him impossibly closer. “I missed you so much.”

“I—” Castiel faltered. He hadn’t been expecting such tenderness, such rawness from Dean. It was unsteadying in the best of ways, but it also had his mind jumbled. “I missed you, too.”

Dean pulled back, keeping his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. The pressure there felt like a tether, anchoring him securely to the ground.

“Are you really feeling okay?” He worried his lip, anxiety rolling off him in waves. “I wanted to take you to the hospital, but the kid said that we didn’t need to. If you’re not feeling alright, I can take you there now.” He looked Castiel over, taking in his weakened form. “Maybe we should go anyways, just to be safe—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted. He reached across his chest to place his hand atop Dean’s. Electricity sparked where their skin met. He took in a trembling breath. “That won't be necessary. I’m fine.”

For some time, they just stayed there, unmoving. It was like someone had paused them in this moment. Dean stared at Castiel’s shoulder, where his hand was gripped viselike to Dean’s.

After what felt like hours, time started moving again. Dean stood up fully and stared hesitantly into Castiel’s eyes.

“Listen, Cas. About what you said, you know, before you—”

“Dean, we don’t have to talk about that conversation,” Castiel interrupted. He stood up again, this time slowly so as to prevent himself from fainting. Dean watched him warily the entire time, as if he were mentally preparing to catch him again. “You can pretend it never happened and move on. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

For a moment, Dean just stared at him blankly.

Then— “Oh, gee,” he scoffed. “Thanks for that, Cas. I guess I’ll just develop a sudden case of voluntary amnesia and somehow forget one of the worst things to ever happen to me.”

Castiel turned his words over in his head, puzzled.

“Are you... being sarcastic?”

“Cas,” Dean leveled him with a helpless look. “If you seriously think I can just up and forget that ‘conversation’— if it can even be called that— you’re out of your damn mind.”

“You’re angry,” the angel stated forlornly.

Dean sighed. “I’m not angry about _what_ you said. I’m angry that you said it and then had the nerve to immediately get yourself killed.” Castiel’s eyes flitted to the ground, saddened by the memory. “I don’t understand— I just... why would you do that, man? Why make that deal?”

Castiel blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. He had thought the answer was obvious.

“I made the deal to protect Jack,” he stated plainly.

“Okay fine, that part I get.” Dean closed his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead, squeezing the skin there as though it could help to alleviate his frustration. “But explain this to me, why— why would you invoke the deal when you knew it would get you killed?”

“Dean,” he sighed.

“No.” Dean brought his hand up in a halting gesture. “You could’ve lived your entire life without ever invoking the deal,” he supplied. “I mean, for all we know, you could’ve given the Empty the slip for all eternity, so... why? Why would you do it?”

“It’s not like dying was my first choice,” he responded flatly. “I decided to invoke the deal when it became clear that there was no other way to protect you.”

Dean glowered. “Dying shouldn’t have been a choice _at all_.”

Castiel simply shrugged. “I would do it again to protect the people I love.”

Dean’s anger grew by the minute, his face beginning to display obvious irritation.

“Yeah? Well what about the people who love _you_ , Cas?” His voice was low and strained. “You’re fine with just leaving them to pick up the pieces knowing they’ll never see you again? Knowing they’ll mourn you for the rest of their lives?”

“I knew Jack would understand.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in disbelief at that statement, his jaw slackening.

“Jack isn’t the only one who loves you, you son of a bitch.”

Castiel shifted his weight, his face contorted into his usual confused expression.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I knew Sam would also understand.”

Castiel soon realized that _that_ was not the response he was looking for either. Dean’s fists clenched at his sides and his brows furrowed angrily.

The angel squinted at him, as if it would somehow guide him to the correct answer.

A moment of silence passed between them, and then—

“I’m talking about me!” Dean burst, unable to withstand this unique form of torture any longer. “What about _me_?”

“Well... you... I mean—” Castiel floundered, scratching his head like a cartoon character. “What?”

“I love you, Cas.” Dean pointed to his own chest indignantly. “ _Me_. What about me?”

“I—” The angel appeared taken aback. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?” he asked, incredulous. “You know that you’re my best friend. You know that I’d die for you a hundred times over. Without question. You know that I’ve never cared about anyone in my life the way that I care about you, apart from my brother.”

Castiel tried not to reflexively flinch at that statement. With those words, he felt a sinking sense of dread flow through him. He began to think that his confession might not have landed as he had intended it to. He began to think that maybe Dean had thought that Castiel meant he loved him like a brother. And now that he thought of it, this was the only logical explanation behind Dean’s current behavior, which was in no way different from his behavior during any of their other reunions. In fact, his behavior was oddly normal, considering this was their only reunion to follow Castiel professing that he was in love with him.

When the angel woke up, he had half-expected Dean to avoid him. And he wouldn’t have blamed him— he knew that his feelings weren’t reciprocated, and he never wanted to burden Dean with them.

“You _have_ to know that. How couldn’t you know that?” Dean finished, oblivious to Castiel‘s internal strife.

His words had a chaotic, desperate edge to them, as though the thought of Castiel not knowing how much he cared about him could somehow inflict physical pain.

“Dean, I know that. I know you care about Sam and me similarly.”

Dean exhaled, relieved that he had at least managed to communicate that point. But still— “If you knew that, then how could you possibly say that you can’t have this?” He gestured between them helplessly. “I’m right here.”

Castiel closed his eyes and slowed his breathing in an attempt to gather himself.

He had never anticipated having to actually talk about his confession to Dean. That was the beauty of revealing his best kept secret seconds before certain death: He would never have to live with the consequences of his actions.

It was a selfish choice, really. Saying those words was not mutually beneficial, and Castiel knew that. He knew he would get peace out of his confession, while Dean would get nothing but inner turmoil and endless questions. Questions that would go forever unanswered, or so Castiel had thought. He did it to save Dean, yes, but there was also selfishness in that respect— he didn’t want to live without Dean, so instead, he had forced Dean to live without him.

Of course, he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, amidst the confusion and shock, Dean might take some of his words to heart. That he might realize he’s not the monster he sees in the mirror. That he might feel just an ounce of the love that Castiel harbored for him and might let himself bask in it. That he might, for one moment, feel something for himself other than self-loathing and hatred. 

But regardless of the outcome, Castiel would say his piece and be gone. Simple. Easy.

But _this_ — this was neither simple nor easy. Because if Dean had mistook him, then Castiel hadn’t actually confessed. If his confession was misunderstood, then it wasn’t a confession at all. 

It was just an average, run-of-the-mill, everyday goodbye. No different than any of the countless other goodbyes the two had shared.

Which meant that he would essentially have to confess again— only this time, with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have an immediate, definite exit. This time, he would have nowhere to hide.

And that… that was scary.

He took a deep breath and hesitantly stepped toward Dean.

“Because Dean— I love Sam, too. But the way that I love Sam is entirely different from the way that I love you. I understand that your love for me is familial. Brotherly,” he choked out the word, barely masking his disgust. “I’m happy with that. Grateful for it, even.” He took a few more steps, approaching Dean for the words that mattered most. “But if you think that’s the same as what I feel for you, you are grossly mistaken.”

Dean appeared confused, his mouth opened as if to say something, but closed just as quickly. He shook his head and eliminated the final space that had separated them. They were now standing face to face, only a few feet apart.

“That’s not—” He halted for a moment, sorting out his words. “When I said that I care about you and Sam, I didn’t mean that I care about you both in the same way.”

Castiel squinted his eyes, trying to decipher Dean’s words.

“Cas, I don’t look at you like you’re my brother.” He paused again, thinking that over. “Maybe— maybe I used to, in the beginning. I don’t know... It’s— it’s all such a mess.” He shook his head as though he could physically sort out his thoughts. “But I sure as hell don’t look at you like a brother now. I mean, you’re just as important to me as him, which is why I compared you two, but don’t get it twisted— the feelings I have for you are not the same as the feelings I have for my brother. That would be... _weird_ , to say the least.”

Castiel’s head tilted to the side in confusion. 

Dean sighed, exhausted, and then took one of Castiel’s hands in an attempt to get his message across.

Castiel did not take the hint.

Rather, he stared down at their joined hands in bewilderment.

Dean huffed out a laugh, hopelessly endeared by the angel. _Baby in a trench coat indeed_.

“I love you,” Dean said again, but this time without the anger. His words were palpably intense and honest. He was determined to get through to him.

The angel stood motionless, eyes wide. He was still missing the picture, apparently. Dean tried to hold back his exasperation.

This was one of the many things that made Castiel so uniquely _Castiel_. At times, it seemed that he was all-knowing. Stronger and more powerful than anyone Dean has ever known on such a profound level. But then, in polar opposition, his otherworldly nature betrayed him all too often. It constantly exposed his social ineptness and his childlike wonder. He vacillated between unmatched sagacity and complete naivety without notice. He was a study in contrasts. A perfect dichotomy. And Dean loved him all the more for it.

“I’m saying I care about you in a non-brotherly way, Cas.”

“Yes,” Castiel looked up, then nodded as though he was finally beginning to make sense of Dean’s word vomit. “You’re saying you care about me in a... _friendly_ way.”

Dean groaned in frustration, and Castiel’s brows furrowed once again. Dean wished, not for the first time, that he shared Sam’s talent for expressing his feelings.

He took a deep breath. This was it. This was his chance to set the record straight once and for all, and he was royally screwing it up.

“No, Cas. In more than a friendly way.” He cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe the angel was forcing him to say this out loud. “In a... in a _romantic_ way.”

In response to that revelation, Castiel’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally spoke again, shock and confusion evident in his voice. 

“Dean, my intention was never for you to feel pressured into saying things that you don’t mean.”

Dean closed his eyes and paused for a moment, overcome with exhaustion over what has essentially become a twelve-year long miscommunication.

“Cas, for the love of God, would you please listen to me? I’m not feeling pressured into saying anything. It’s the truth.”

“But, Dean—”

“Cas, please. Look at me— you can have this.” He gestured between them once again. “Please, get it through your fucking head before I lose my mind.”

At Castiel’s silence and at his own wit’s end, Dean took the angel’s face into his hands and locked eyes with him in an intense stare.

It was time to play his final card.

“I love you.”

He steadied himself, preparing to make the all-important distinction.

“I’m _in love_ with you, Cas.”

Castiel stared at him wildly, disbelief evident in his features.

“Please,” Dean tacked on in desperation.

A beat passed without noise or movement. Just the two of them staring at each other, trying to understand one another. Completely and totally, with no secrets or pretense, maybe for the first time. The air was thick and all-consuming. They stood silently, suspended in this moment.

Then, “Cas—”

It was as if the word broke whatever spell they were under. Castiel backed away from him in shock.

“But you— you can’t be!”

Dean tried to school his features, refusing to let himself be too hurt by his reaction. 

“Why not? Since when do you get to tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not trying to t—” He stopped himself and shook his head, as though realizing too that this conversation was getting nowhere. “I just don’t understand. You’ve never expressed that to me before.”

“Yeah, well, you never expressed it to me before letting the Empty swallow you whole either, Cas, but you still got to say it.”

Castiel’s eyes scanned Dean’s face, checking for any sign of deceit or wavering. Dean stood still, ensuring that he would find none.

The angel cautiously approached him again. “You... you _love_ me?” he asked hesitantly. “You really love me?”

“Yes.” 

“Not as your brother.”

“Not as my brother,” Dean confirmed. Then his face screwed up in disgust. “Jesus, can we drop that? Forever?”

Castiel smiled, big and genuine and happy, as though the truth behind Dean’s words was finally starting to sink in.

“You love me.” And this time it came out as a statement, tentative and new, but lacking the doubt that had clearly filled his head moments before.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Castiel huffed out a small, breathless laugh. “I love you, too,” he said, quiet and sincere.

And with that, Dean was finished talking— he smiled, then, without another word, leaned in and pressed his lips to Castiel’s in a kiss that struck them both like a bolt of lightning.

It had been a long time coming.

He pulled the angel into himself, then cupped his face, tilting his head for a better angle.

At first, their movements were hesitant, cautious, each trying to get a sense for this new, hallowed thing shared between them.

But within seconds, their maneuvering seemed to shift into autopilot, and their lips moved against each other with easy, almost practiced, motion. It was as if they had done this a million times before, like their bodies knew exactly what to do, without thought or uncertainty. There was unfathomable familiarity in each movement and in every shift.

Dean thought distantly that the naturalness behind this new development may be explained by the fact that this wasn’t all that new. The kissing, _that_ was definitely new. But the feelings between them, the knowing each other better than anyone else, the simple, unwitting synchronization between them— that wasn’t new. And it translated in every touch, in every press of their lips.

Dean’s tongue pressed at the seam of Castiel’s lips, and the angel let him in without second thought. He let out a breathy moan, and the noise stirred Dean into deepening the kiss. He wanted to elicit as many tiny, desperate noises from him as possible. Each damp, heated press of their lips made his blood sing, and he couldn’t help but think of how idiotic they both were for never having done this before.

Castiel tightened his grip on Dean in an attempt to stay grounded. He felt like he may float away at any moment or wake up to discover this was all but a dream. A ridiculously good, incomparable dream.

They paused, their foreheads pressed against each other as they caught their breath. Both of them needed a moment to recover from the exhilaration coursing through them. Warm air puffed out in panted breaths that mingled in the charged space between them.

A moment later, Dean pressed three chaste kisses in quick succession against Castiel’s stunned lips. The light, innocent nature of the action in contrast to the heaviness of what they had just done made Castiel giggle abruptly, and Dean felt his heart contract in his chest with the sound.

“I love you,” Dean said against his lips, once more for good measure. Castiel felt the words reverberating throughout him with force, radiating warmth in his bones and filling him with bubbly, incandescent happiness. Dean took a step back. “But if you ever try to pull something like that again, I’ll kick your feathery ass.”

Castiel had the audacity to look perplexed by that statement.

Dean threw his arms out in an exaggerated _seriously?_ expression. “What if we couldn’t have gotten you out of there? What if we were never able to see each other again?” Dean’s voice was on the edge of breaking with every word. “You were okay with just dropping that bomb and leaving me to deal with the aftermath? Having to live with the knowledge that you sacrificed yourself for me, yet again, and that I would never even get a chance to respond?”

“Dean, I... I’m so sorry.” Castiel frowned. “I didn’t— never in a million years did I think you’d reciprocate. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I didn’t expect you to try to bring me back. I’m sorry.”

Dean was tired of fighting. Tired of speaking. He sighed and opened his arms in invitation, already missing his touch after mere seconds of going without it. “Come here.” 

Castiel happily complied. He fell into him, gripping fistfuls of Dean’s flannel in a tight embrace. Dean wrapped his arms around him and held him as closely as possible, basking in the feeling of having his angel back where he belonged.

“I don’t want you to apologize for making the deal to save me. That’s not the point. I just want you to understand that you’re not expendable to me. You never have been.” He tightened his arms around him to drive that point home. “I’m not okay with you making decisions under the assumption that I wouldn’t care if something happened to you. I’ve never been okay with it.”

Castiel pushed his face into Dean’s neck, and Dean could feel tears starting to dampen his skin.

He wanted to comfort him, but he needed Castiel to understand him first so that they would never find themselves in this situation again. He squeezed him tighter.

“And you should’ve known I would try to get you back. Of course I would! When _haven’t_ I tried to get you back after losing you?” Indignation tinged his tone. “Did you really think I’d let you waste away in the Empty while I move on with my life, eating pies and driving around like nothing happened? Like my life hadn’t just been completely screwed up?”

“That’s what I wanted for you,” he mumbled against Dean’s skin, almost too quiet to hear.

“Yeah? Well tough shit, Cas, that ain’t gonna happen. Ever.”

“I didn’t want you to dwell on it. I just wanted you to be safe and happy. With Sam and Jack.”

Dean sighed and stepped back, then lifted Castiel’s chin up with his index finger, forcing eye contact.

“Cas.” Castiel’s face glistened with tear tracks. “Thank you. For trying to protect me. But I’ll never be happy if you’re not in my life. And I’ll definitely never be happy if I know that you’re rotting away in some hell dimension. I need you to know that.”

“Alright.”

Dean looked skeptical. “ _Never_ do that again, Cas. Promise me.”

After a prolonged silence, Dean squinted his eyes at him, trying to prompt a response.

“I— I can’t promise that I wouldn’t give my life for yours if necessary in the future.”

“Damnit, Cas.”

“It’s not fair for you to ask me to promise that. Of course I’d lay down my life for yours again. Or for Sam, or for Jack. Always. You would do it for the people you care about too. It’s what we do.”

Dean couldn’t really argue with that logic, but still— the thought of losing him again was enough to defy rationality. He just needed a different strategy.

“You... you said that this was the one thing you wanted.”

Castiel blinked, puzzled by the sudden topic change.

“Yes.”

“Is that still true?”

His voice exposed his uncertainty. He still couldn’t believe this was real— that Castiel could actually want _him_. An Angel of the Lord falling for Dean Winchester. It sounded impossible, and yet there Castiel stood, his heart on his sleeve.

“Of course, Dean.”

In just three words, the angel managed to quell all the fears that had threatened to consume him. Castiel had always had a way of doing that. Dean smiled.

“Okay.” He took a steadying breath. “You can have this. You can have _me_. I mean, honestly, you’ve always had me, Cas. I’m sorry for not telling you that sooner.” He shook his head, annoyed with himself for all of the chances he had missed. “Just— just don’t leave again. Okay? No more sacrifices. No more goodbyes. We’ve had to say goodbye too many times already. I ain’t doing it again.” Castiel blinked and tears rolled down his cheeks, shining in the dimly lit room. Dean swiftly wiped them away, his thumbs gently sweeping underneath his eyes as he continued. “Stay here. Stay with me.”

“Dean—“

“Just— please. Stay. Let’s figure this out. Together.”

Castiel took his hand and pressed one, searing kiss to Dean’s palm. Dean felt his skin ignite there with a pleasant burn.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't reread this chapter or edit it much, so sorry for any typos or errors! one more chapter to go!!!!
> 
> up next: jack’s back!!!


	4. Chapter 4

At the conclusion of their emotionally-charged conversation, Dean had ushered Castiel back to the bed, grumbling something along the lines of “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to stand up again literally five minutes after you fainted and almost cracked your skull open.”

He had watched, endeared, as Dean dutifully tucked the blanket around his legs, taking care to ensure that no air could sneak in and sap any warmth away from him.

Now, Castiel was sitting in the bed, alone with his thoughts, as he waited for Dean to come back with a glass of water. 

He found his mind racing, unable to fully process what had happened.

Dean loved him. Dean was _in love_ with him.

It felt too good to be true, like this might just be another cruel mind game the Shadow was playing on him.

“Delivery!” Dean said cheerfully, appearing in the doorway and interrupting Castiel’s inner monologue. He was holding the glass of water aloft, presenting it like a trophy.

Castiel thanked him and accepted it, then took in a few sips, letting the cool liquid run through him. Despite his not needing to drink, the water soothed his throat, which was still dry and achy from his time in the Empty.

He lowered the cup to release a giant yawn. He still found himself feeling worn out, his body lethargic and tired from his escape. He felt strangely human, sensing the alluring tug of sleep at the corners of his mind, despite having woken up only a few hours ago.

He squinted his eyes at that thought, realizing he had no idea what time it was. There were no windows or clocks in the bedroom to indicate whether it was morning or night.

“What time is it?”

Dean took the cup from him and placed it on the nightstand.

“It’s about a quarter ‘til two.”

“P.M.?”

“A.M.,” Dean corrected. “Sam just went to bed. Told me to tell you good night.”

Castiel blinked. “He didn’t want to tell me himself?”

“He did.”

“And?”

Dean shrugged. “And I didn’t want to share you.”

Castiel huffed out a little, breathless laugh at that. Then, he looked down to rediscover that he was, in fact, in Dean’s bed. Which meant—

“Oh.” He shot up, uncovering himself and moving to swivel his legs over the side of the mattress. “I’ll— umm...” He struggled, his limbs having gotten trapped by the blanket, which only sent him into a further panic.

His strenuous efforts were halted by a hand gripped tightly to his leg. He looked up to find Dean’s brows furrowed, puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“I— I was moving to the spare room. So you could have your bed back. It’s late, you probably want to sleep... And I’ve taken your bed for four days,” he explained, his sentences stilted and voice timid.

Dean’s face scrunched up, his lips pursed and eyebrows threaded together.

“You’re not sleeping in the spare room, Cas,” he said, as though the idea were ridiculous. Then his expression turned wary, like he was unsure of himself. “I mean, unless you want to.”

Castiel stared at him, trying his best to navigate this conversation.

“I don’t want to.”

Dean looked him over, considering.

“Okay.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, then walked to the side of the bed opposite the angel. “Then let’s hit the hay.” He lifted the covers up. “Scoot over.”

Castiel could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. Sharing a bed… that was more new territory for them. He found himself growing nervous at the prospect. He shifted toward the nightstand, as close to the edge of the bed as possible.

As Dean peeled back the blanket, Castiel noticed that he had changed his clothes at some point. He was now wearing a heathered blue Henley shirt and soft pants.

Pajamas. He was wearing _pajamas_.

The angel took in a breath. That was a lot for him to process.

This _entire day_ was a lot for him to process.

Dean had settled in, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he adjusted the blanket on top of him. He was on his back, his arms crossed behind his head with a pillow propping him up slightly. Once he was comfortable, he exhaled in satisfaction. 

Then, there was silence. Silence that seemed to stretch on for hours.

Dean turned his head to take in Castiel’s form. He was laying on his side, as far away from the center of the bed as physically possible. Half of his body was dangling precariously over the edge, and he had a feeling that if he fell asleep like this— if he even _could_ fall asleep with Dean so close to him— he’d wake up on the floor.

One of Dean’s eyebrows rose.

“Cas?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“You maybe wanna use more than one square inch of the mattress? I’m not gonna bite.”

“Right.” He swallowed.

He made no move to get closer.

After a moment, Dean rolled his eyes, then opened his arms up. “Come here.”

“O— okay.”

He started towards Dean hesitantly, but once he was within reach, he was haphazardly yanked into him. He squawked as he practically flopped on top of his chest. Dean laughed, then wrapped his arms around him. Castiel’s cheek was now resting against his warm, solid body.

“Cas, relax, alright? It’s me. It’s just me. What are you so nervous about?”

Castiel thought that question over. Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure why anxiety was rolling over him in waves. He thought the newness of the situation was to blame for his nerves, and that was probably somewhat true. But, more predominantly, he was nervous because he couldn’t quite believe this was actually happening. His earlier thoughts of the Shadow plagued his mind and threatened to overtake him.

“I’m—” he paused, gathering himself. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the Empty and realize this was all a dream,” he said, words muffled and quiet against the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

He felt Dean’s hand, which had previously been running over his lower back comfortingly, halt against him.

“This is real,” he said, steadfast and uncompromising. “I’ll be damned if that cold bitch _ever_ tries to come near you again. You’re not going back there.” His words were soaked in an almost unhinged passion. “Tomorrow, you’ll wake up to my ugly mug. And maybe some bacon, if Sam knows what’s good for him. Nothing else. You’ll wake up _here_. With me. Alright?”

Castiel nodded, trying to convince himself that Dean’s words were true. 

In response to his lack of verbal response and his unsure expression, Dean sighed. He pressed a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head.

“I promise this is real. You're just gonna have to trust me.”

At that, Castiel glanced up to find Dean’s eyes already on him, unwavering and honest.

“Alright,” the angel said with a tone of finality.

He trusted Dean. He would _always_ trust Dean.

He forced himself to shed his anxieties. He turned over, fitting his back to Dean’s chest, so that the two were effectively spooning. He pulled his arm around him and held it against his sternum after pressing a small kiss to the back of his hand. Dean pulled him in closer, releasing a soft noise of approval.

“You going to sleep now?” he mumbled next to Castiel’s ear.

He was about to answer in the affirmative, but his attention was caught by the framed picture sitting on the nightstand. He had noticed it earlier, when Sam had been in here.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Where did that picture come from?”

Dean tensed behind him, and Castiel wondered if he had somehow overstepped.

“It’s from a couple weeks before…” He cut himself off and cleared his throat, and Castiel took that to mean _a couple weeks before the Empty took you_. “Anyways, Sam, he took it. With his phone, I guess.”

“What was I smiling at?”

Dean chuckled and kissed him gently behind his ear. “Me.”

Castiel felt the breath leave his lungs at that. He looked at the picture again.

Soft eyes. Big smile. Complete captivation.

In retrospect, he should’ve known immediately who he was gazing at. Only Dean could elicit such a lovestruck look.

He thought it over and released a small laugh. “Sam took a picture of me looking at you, and you printed it out, framed it, and placed it on your nightstand?”

“Shut up.”

“You must have _really_ missed me,” he teased.

“Of course I did, dumbass.”

His smile grew at Dean’s unique term of endearment.

He felt Dean swallow. “It wasn’t just that I missed you, I— I _needed_ you. I needed to tell you… and you were just. Gone. And it felt different this time. Like you weren't coming back.”

Castiel shifted beside him, considering his words. “Tell me…?”

“You’re kidding,” Dean stated, emotionless. “Cas, you told me you loved me and then immediately got absorbed by a portal of cosmic black goo. I never got a chance to respond. I needed to tell you that _I love you_.”

Castiel winced at the desperate edge to his words. The obvious pain in Dean's voice weighed down on him, filling him with guilt for having left the way he did.

“I’m sorry, Dean."

He felt the arms tighten around him.

“Stop apologizing for saving my life,” Dean murmured. “Just— never do something like that again. We’re a team. We make decisions together from now on.”

Castiel nodded, and then the two settled further into each other.

They were about to fall asleep. He could feel both of their breathing steadying out, crawling to a slow.

But he had been turning some of Dean’s earlier words over in his head, and he had to ask—

“Dean?”

“Mhmm?” he said, and Castiel thought that he might actually be sleep talking.

“You said that I'll wake up to your 'ugly mug' tomorrow," he paused, formulating his question. "Which one of your coffee mugs do you find ugly? I’ve always found each one of them to be unique and charming in its own way—”

Dean groaned and ran a hand through his hair sleepily. “Cas, that’s not—” The angel felt him shake his head behind him. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

He nodded. He supposed he could wait for the answer.

He adjusted his head on the pillow beneath it, settling in once and for all. He closed his eyes, and felt sleep pulling at him, tempting and irresistible.

He was right on the precipice of fading when his eyes opened once again. He realized he had one more thing to do.

“Dean,” he exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure. He needed to say it once more before he let himself rest. “I love you.”

At first, he had thought that Dean had already surrendered to sleep. But after a moment, he felt a lazy trail of kisses pressed to the back of his neck. “I love you, too," Dean said, quiet and true. "Get some sleep, Cas.”

And with that, Castiel closed his eyes and let himself drift away, feeling happy and whole in his arms.

—

“Jack, wait—”

“Cas! Dean!”

Castiel blinked groggily, slowly returning to consciousness. His surroundings came into focus gradually. Dean’s arm still snugly wrapped around him. Their legs tangled together beneath the blankets. Dean’s soft snores puffing out against the nape of his neck.

If he hadn’t known what Heaven was actually like, Castiel would guess it was something like this.

After a moment of bliss, his attention was drawn to some indistinct shouting from behind the closed door of the bedroom. It grew louder and louder until the voices were right outside.

“Jack! Hold on! Don't—”

“Cas? Dean?”

And then, the door burst open abruptly, waking Dean up from his slumber. In a flash, he had grabbed a gun that had been stashed beneath his mattress and pointed it at the intruder. His other arm had come up almost instinctively, forming a protective bar across Castiel’s chest

“Hello!”

Jack stood in the doorway, a bright smile on his face and his hand held up in his signature wave, which he cheerily offered Dean and Castiel.

“Jesus, kid,” Dean groaned, then put his gun back in its rightful place, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up. “We’ve talked about this. Knocking before entering. You scared the hell out of me.”

Jack grimaced. “Sorry. I got excited.”

With his apologetic look, Dean's scowl disappeared, seemingly unable to maintain his grumpiness. “Don't sweat it,” he said, and it came out low and sleepy. 

Suddenly, Sam rounded the corner and entered the room, looking exasperated and disheveled.

“Hi, guys,” he panted, apparently out of breath from chasing Jack throughout the corridors of the bunker. “Jack’s back.”

Dean laughed. “Thanks for the breaking news, genius.” He stretched his arms above his head and sent Jack a smile. “Hey, kid," he greeted happily, as if the two hadn't already spoken to each other. "Good to see you home again.”

“Good morning, Dean,” he replied, beaming. “I’m happy to be back.” His eyes moved to Castiel. “Hello, Castiel.”

Castiel had finally managed to get his bearings.

“Hello, Jack,” he said, his voice full of emotion.

Jack approached his bedside and Castiel wasted no time sitting up and pulling him into a close hug. 

“How are you feeling?”

Castiel laughed, happy tears threatening to spill over at any moment. He couldn't have possibly felt better.

“Great. I’m so happy to see you.”

“You too,” Jack said against his neck. “I have so much to talk to you about!”

Sam cleared his throat.

“Jack.” He placed a hand on his shoulder from where he stood behind him. “Let’s give them a minute to wake up before you bombard him with questions. Come on, we’ll go make breakfast.”

Jack pulled back obediently, and Castiel smiled at him again. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“I’ll teach you how to make bacon while we wait for them,” Sam offered.

In response to that, Dean released a “Hell yes!” while Jack let out a happy “Okay!” and proceeded to follow Sam out of the room.

Now alone, Dean looked to Castiel, who was still staring at the door where Jack had just exited. The angel was in a state of incredulity that his family was alive and well and, at least for right now, all in one place together. He felt infinitely grateful.

He turned to Dean and found him gazing at him affectionately.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, and the corner of his lips quirked up.

Castiel simply grinned in response. He could get used to mornings like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this was only supposed to be four chapters, but the words keep getting away from me!
> 
> this chapter was originally going to be pretty Jack-centric (sorting out Heaven and Cas' grace), but I had the bed scene in my head and it didn't fit into that very well, narratively, so I moved the Jack content to the next chapter. you can think of this as a gratuitous bed-sharing interlude I guess :)
> 
> the good news is that most of the next chapter is already written, so the final chapter (and maybe an epilogue??) should be up in a couple days.
> 
> as always, thanks so much for reading!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooo sorry for how long this took to post!!! I am ashamed of my time management skills :/
> 
> anyways, the first half of this chapter is an important Cas and Jack convo, and the second half is an important, therapeutic Cas and Dean convo :)
> 
> please enjoy!

“Cas?”

Castiel was thumbing through a bestiary in the library a few days later when he heard Jack call for him.

Sam and Dean had gone on a routine hunt near the bunker, and Dean had been insistent that Castiel stay home, claiming that he hadn’t had nearly enough time to recover. So, Castiel stayed home, if only to placate his concern, and waited on call to provide research help if necessary.

Jack, presumably busy with his new role as God, had popped in and out every now and then since Castiel had woken up.

“Cas! Come to the kitchen, I have a surprise for you!”

Castiel closed the book and placed it back on the shelf with a smile. “Coming.”

When he finally turned into the kitchen, he found Jack planted just inside the doorway, beaming. He was proudly holding out a large, pink monstrosity which vaguely resembled a cake.

“Dean taught me how to bake it the other day while you were sleeping! Do you like it?”

Castiel looked down at the lumpy cake.  _ Welcome back, Cas! _ was scrawled across it sloppily, iced in wobbly handwriting. The wax of a few of the candles had melted and now sat in colorful puddles atop the frosting. He could feel his heart swell.

“Jack…” He tried not to tear up, but his slightly blurred vision signalled that he wasn’t doing such a great job at it.

“I know it’s a few days late, but I kept messing the recipe up.”

The angel shook his head, endeared. “It’s perfect. I’m so proud of you.”

Jack took in his tears with obvious confusion. “For... baking this cake?”

“No.” Castiel placed a hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head, considering. “Well, yes, but not just for that. For everything. Look around, the world is a much better place already, and you’ve only been in charge of things for, what? A couple of months? You’ve done so well, Jack. I always believed in you.”

“I know. That’s why I knew I could do it.”

Castiel felt his lips stretch into a smile. He took the cake from Jack and carefully placed it on the table, then pulled him into a tight hug. He knew Jack couldn’t stay for long, so he would treasure this moment with his son and savor the time that he did have. He was now God, after all, and Castiel supposed that meant he had more important things to do than bake cakes in a bunker and hang out with two middle-aged men and an angel.

“Being here  _ is _ important,” Jack said, tone serious. Castiel laughed. The omniscience was going to take some getting used to.

“Sometimes, I block it out.”

Castiel looked at him, puzzled.

“The knowledge,” he supplied. “When I’m with Sam and Dean, and with you, now that you’re back, I don’t like knowing what you’re all thinking. It makes me feel… distanced. It sounds counterintuitive, but knowing everything you’re thinking, in some ways, it makes me feel  _ more _ disconnected from you. Having access to basically all the information in the universe is useful, but it can— it can also be burdensome. And lonely. So, I try to block it out. But, I’m still learning how to control it.” He glanced over to the cake. “I made that without cheating at all!”

Castiel once again felt his emotions starting to take over, feeling indignant that Jack was the one forced to shoulder the weight of the entire world. He was only three years old, and yet he was responsible for the lives of billions. It was unfair. He wished there was something he could do to relieve some of the pressure.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay!” he replied, chipper as ever. “Like I said, I’m learning. Anyways, your instinct was correct. I can’t stay for long. I can’t… live here in the bunker and be with you guys like I used to.”

Castiel felt heartbroken at the sadness underlying Jack’s words. Though he remained positive, his tone revealed the truth— he would stay here if he could.

“I know. It’s alright, Jack.”

“Cas?” Jack whispered against his shoulder.

“Yes?”

It took a moment for Jack to respond. 

“I’ve been working on something. Something big. And I was wondering if— if maybe you could help me?”

He pulled back and took in Jack’s features. He was genuinely nervous, hesitant to ask for Castiel’s help in whatever this project was.

“Jack, of course. Of course I’ll help you. Whatever you need.”

Jack nodded, then swallowed, like he was still anxious to tell Castiel his plan.

“I’m rebuilding Heaven from the ground up. Or...” He tilted his head in a mannerism all too similar to Castiel’s own. “I guess from the sky up? It’s just— Heaven, I think it needs some... restructuring. I don’t think it’s as peaceful and happy as it should be. And since you know the place so well, I could really use your help.”

Castiel squeezed his shoulder, smiling at him with pride. “That’s a great idea. I’d love to help, in any way I can.”

Jack grinned briefly in response, but then his eyes shifted to the ground.

“I know that... that you and Dean are just starting to figure things out. I don’t want to take you away from him. You two are finally happy, and I—“

“Hey,” Castiel interrupted, calmly. “Dean and I have the rest of our lives to be happy, and when it’s finally time for him to pass on, I think he’d definitely prefer to go to a Heaven designed by you.” Castiel cleared his throat. “But... if it’s at all possible, I’d like to split my time between Heaven and Earth. I don’t— I don’t want to be apart from him for longer periods than necessary.”

“Of course!” Jack smiled brilliantly. “It could be like your job.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ve always admired construction workers.”

“I have so many ideas!” Jack looked seconds away from launching off the ground in excitement. “I don’t even know where to start.” He turned around and grabbed his jacket off the back of a nearby chair. Castiel held back a laugh, in disbelief that God himself still worried about conventions as trivial as appropriate outerwear. “I think I’ll go now. I need to get to work! Tell Sam and Dean I said hello. And goodbye.” He put on his jacket in a rush. “I’ll see you soon? Whenever you’re ready. Take your time!”

He started toward the door, but Castiel put his arm out, stopping him.

Jack looked down at the arm barricade in confusion.

“Cas?”

The angel sighed, then looked to the ceiling, trying to figure out how to say what’s been plaguing him since the moment he got back. Since the moment he figured out that Jack was now God, and that he and Dean finally had a chance to live without the constant worry of saving the world.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he started, hesitant. “I know you can’t... play favorites or grant every wish a person may have. And I never want to ask too much of you or make you think that I’m taking advantage of you.”

“Cas,” Jack said, serenely. “It’s okay. Just ask me.”

Castiel nodded, feeling a bit off-kilter. It was as though he and Jack had swapped places, with Castiel now the one nervous to express himself.

“I...” Jack grinned at him, encouraging him to continue. “I want to grow old with him. I want to be able to live and die at his side. I want the human experience of loving someone, of loving  _ him _ , but—”

“You want the human experience, but not the humanity,” Jack translated. “You want your vessel to age, but you also want to keep your Grace.”

Castiel looked to the side, feeling a bit shameless for having the audacity to ask this of him. After a moment, he nodded in confirmation.

“In order to help you in Heaven, I need my Grace.” This was true. Heaven was supposed to be a paradise beyond earthly imagination. It was sacred. Allowing some humans to travel there and back freely defeated that purpose, and it had happened all too often during the last decade. But there was more to Castiel’s desire to keep his Grace, and Jack deserved full disclosure. “But also...”

“You want to be able to heal him. If it ever becomes necessary.”

So much for blocking out his thoughts. Jack was reading him like a book, and, honestly, Castiel appreciated the assistance.

“Well...” Castiel trailed off. “I want to be able to heal him  _ and  _ Sam. And knowing them, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes necessary,” he paused, deciding his next words. “It’s just— they’ve been through so much pain already. More than their fair share and definitely more than any human should ever have to endure. I don’t want to see them in pain anymore.”

“Me either,” Jack agreed.

Castiel smiled at that, then continued.

“And… They've done so much. So much for others. For the human race at large. I mean, they saved the  _ world _ . I think they deserve a little peace.”

Jack nodded, considering.

“I know it’s a lot to ask. I understand if it’s  _ too much _ . I just— I had to at least ask.”

Jack approached Castiel and placed his hands on the angel’s shoulders in an oddly paternal gesture.

“It isn’t too much to ask.”

Castiel’s mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure how to react. He hadn’t expected that. The response that meant everything to him coming out so casually and with such ease.

Jack tilted his head at his reaction.

“What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be happy?”

Castiel simply stood there, shock etched into his features. He recognized those words as his own from a time that seemed eons ago, words said to Dean with the same sense of bewilderment, albeit with one slight change in wording.

“Of course I can give that to you. It’s the least I can do. I wouldn’t be here without the sacrifice you made. And besides, you’re my father and I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“But didn’t you want to be hands-off? That’s what Dean told me. I mean, shouldn’t— shouldn’t you avoid...”

“Interfering?” Castiel nodded. “One minor interference isn’t going to offset the balance of all things. I can allow it. I  _ will _ allow it.”

He approached Castiel again, this time with his arm outstretched like he was going to do it right then and there.

The angel was reeling, still in a state of shock that this was an actual possibility. He stepped back before Jack could touch him. Jack’s expression twisted to one of confusion once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is it even possible? I mean, to stay with him when we…” he trailed off.

“When you die?”

Castiel nodded, “My species and his… they go to two different places when they die.”

“You’re not going back to the Empty, Cas, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Castiel hadn’t realized it, but up until that moment, there had been a crushing pressure around his heart. He had been anxious about this. About having to part with Dean eventually. About having to go back to the Empty. With Jack’s words, he felt relief course through him like a head rush.

“But… how?”

“When I opened the portal to get you out, I made a deal with the Shadow.”

Castiel blinked. “A…  _ deal _ ?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, correctly reading Castiel’s concern. “This one had much better terms than yours did. No one has to die in this one.”

Castiel laughed at that honest response.

“That’s good. Don’t make your parents’ mistakes.” He cleared his throat. “So, what exactly did this deal entail?”

“The Shadow would let you out of the Empty, and, when you eventually die, she would let you go to Heaven. To be with your family.”

Castiel’s eyes squinted. That seemed too good to be true.

“In exchange for?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed while Castiel processed that.

“Nothing,” Castiel repeated, voice flat and emotionless. “You got all that for  _ nothing _ ?”

Jack smiled brightly and nodded.

“How is that possible?”

“Well,” he started, excited to explain. “Since I know how to access the Empty now, I told the Shadow that if she didn’t agree to my terms, I would simply return to retrieve you any time you wind up there. And I told her I’d make  _ a lot _ of noise doing it. She hates noise, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Then, Jack’s words finally registered. “You threatened a cosmic entity?”

“I’m God,” he said, casually.

Castiel paused, his head tilting side to side to think that over, then nodded. “I suppose you are.”

“Anyways, the Shadow wasn’t interested in the thought of being awakened over and over any time you might find yourself in the Empty, so she agreed.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment, processing all this information. Then—

“I’m going to Heaven.”

“Yes.”

“With Dean?”

“When it’s your time, yes.”

Castiel was brimming with relief and joy. He felt that, at any moment, he might burst with it. He pulled Jack into a bruising hug.

“I love you, Jack.” His words came out a bit shaky. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You're my son, and I’d do anything for you. Even if—” He felt emotion creep in and threaten his words. “Even if you’re God now, you’ll always be my son.”

Jack squeezed him tightly. “I know.”

After a moment, they pulled back and Jack smiled at Castiel.

“You ready?”

He nodded.

Jack placed two fingers to the middle of the angel’s forehead, as if he were healing him. A faint yellow glow emanated from his touch, and Castiel felt a warm sensation flow through his blood. It lasted only a fleeting moment, and then Jack was stepping back, a happy smile pasted on his face.

Castiel felt no different, physically. Yet, he knew that everything had fundamentally changed. A dream he had longed for for nearly a decade had just become a reality.

He was going to grow old with Dean.

A week ago, he had been in the Empty. He had been in an agonizing nothingness with no end in sight, no possibility for anything even remotely resembling a happy ending. Now, he was going to live out his days with his family by his side.

He couldn’t help but smile, in disbelief that he could be this lucky.

—

Later that night, Castiel lay with his head on Dean’s chest as fingers raked through his hair in a soothing motion.

After he had told Dean the latest update on his new heavenly job and, more importantly, what Jack had done for him, the two had celebrated with Sam for a bit before retiring to their room to further celebrate the news, though, this time, with notably more kisses and cuddles.

Now, the two were just enjoying each other’s company, limbs tangled together, and blissfully basking in the knowledge that there wasn’t a timer on this. A timer on them being together.

Castiel was still in a state of shock that he could have this. This simple serenity. Everything seemed too good to be true, and he had a hard time letting himself believe that it was real.

“Cas?”

He murmured a “Yes?” against Dean’s skin, a bit sleepy.

It turned out that Jack wasn’t kidding when he offered to give Castiel the complete human experience. He had somehow managed to imbue the angel with every human necessity when he transformed him. Things like hunger, thirst, and exhaustion all came with the aging package, and Castiel couldn’t be happier. He used to dream of falling asleep and waking up next to Dean every day, and now that wasn’t just a possibility, but a reality.

“I know— I know that you heard my prayer.” Dean’s voice brought Castiel’s attention back to the present. It was strained, each word coming out with difficulty. “You know, when we were in Purgatory. But... but, I still wanted to apologize. Now that we have time.”

His brows furrowed. “Dean, you don’t have to—”

“No, no—” Dean cut him off. “I do. Just hear me out, please.”

Castiel had already forgiven Dean for their stupid argument. And honestly, it felt like the whole thing had happened years ago. But he could tell from the tone of Dean’s voice that this was weighing on him, so the angel would let him speak.

“Okay.”

Dean exhaled in relief. He took a moment to gather himself before launching into his speech.

“I never should’ve blamed you. For my mom’s death. For Rowena. For any of it. It wasn’t your fault, and I knew that. I was just so, so angry, and it felt like I couldn’t control myself or anything around me, so I took it out on you.” His hand moved to Castiel’s upper back, tracing patterns there lightly in contrast to the heaviness of their current topic of conversation. “And now... now when I think about it, it makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t believe I treated you like that.”

“Dean...”

“You’ve always been here for me and Sammy. You never asked us for anything, but we asked everything of you all the time. You always came when I called, and I— I took that for granted. You risked everything for us. You rebelled for us. You killed for us. You  _ died _ for us. More than once. And all I ever gave you in return was a couple of half-assed thank yous.” Dean laughed bitterly. “I guess it was just easier to get pissed at you for things that were out of your control than to take any kind of responsibility for my own actions.”

“Dean.”

“Cas, I am so, so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice pained. “Maybe— maybe one day you can forgive me, but I sure as hell wouldn’t, so I understand if—”

“ _ Dean _ .” Castiel finally peeled himself off of the warm chest beneath him and propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes finding Dean’s. Dean’s hands fell off his back and landed on the mattress in the process. “I forgive you. Of course I forgive you.”

Dean scoffed. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it.  _ Cas,  _ I— I told you that you were dead to me.”

Castiel closed his eyes against the pain of that memory. He exhaled slowly.

“I never said it didn’t hurt. It did. Fighting with you  _ always _ hurts. And when you said that to me, it— it felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest.” Dean took one of his hands, squeezing it in some attempt to comfort him. Castiel squeezed back. “But I knew... Even then, I knew that you didn’t mean it. I know you. I know that when you’re angry, you say things you don’t mean.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t mean it,” Dean confirmed.

“I know.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay. I’m fucked up and everyone knows that, but it doesn’t make the shit that I do okay.”

“Dean...” Castiel moved to a seated position, cross-legged in front of Dean. This conversation was important, he could sense that, having come a long way from his near-constant misreading of social situations. “You are  _ not _ fucked up. You’ve made mistakes. We all have. And I forgive you for them.”

“But—”

“ _ I forgive you _ ,” he repeated, cupping Dean’s face. He needed to make this point clear. “I  _ love _ you. What’s in the past is in the past. Let’s leave it there.”

Dean shook his head, but Castiel’s hands remained glued to his face.

He sighed. “Dean, I’m telling you that I forgive you.” His words came out with a rasp. He leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “Maybe it’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

A beat passed, and then—

“I can’t,” he choked out, the words raw and miserable.

“You can.” Castiel kissed him, soft and true. “You deserve to forgive yourself.”

Tears rolled down Dean’s face at that, and Castiel kissed each track as if he could erase all the pain it held.

“Cas—”

“Dean, it’s okay,” he whispered. “Let go.”

Apparently, he wasn’t quite ready for that. He pulled back.

“That night, the night you left, I never should’ve let you go. Never should’ve let you think that you had to leave. Shouldn’t have kicked you out the first time either. God, I can’t believe I did that to you.” He paused, catching his breath. “The bunker... it’s your home. You belong here just as much as me and Sam. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, and I—“

“Dean,” he interrupted, “the bunker was never my home.” Dean blanched for a moment, but Castiel shook his head, determined to make him understand. “Since the moment I left Heaven all those years ago, my home was  _ you _ . It’s always been you.”

That took Dean aback. For a moment, he just stared at Castiel, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. Castiel hoped he could see the truth in his eyes.

“I’m home now, and I forgive you,” he reiterated, hopefully for the last time. “I’ve moved on from the errors of our past. I just hope that you can, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean croaked, finality in his tone.

“I know you are. It’s okay, Dean.” Dean’s shoulders slumped with the words, as if a physical weight had been removed from them. “And I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you. But I don’t regret a single decision, path, or action that either of us have taken, because it led us to where we are now. And where we are now— this is more than I could have ever prayed for.”

Dean exhaled, and Castiel sensed that he released all his fears and doubts and regrets with it.

“I love you, Cas.”

“I love you, too.”

Dean kissed him. It felt cathartic. Like they were putting all the heartbreak and trauma behind them and stepping into this new life. Embarking on a journey neither of them thought possible. Together.

“And Dean?” He looked down at Castiel, where the angel had reclaimed his position on his chest. “You’ve given me much more than ‘a couple of half-assed thank yous.’ You’ve given me a family. A home. A life apart from following orders and fulfilling duties. A purpose,” he paused, then pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s chest where it rested underneath him. “Happiness. True happiness. You’ve given me  _ everything _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgiveness... can you imagineeeee?
> 
> writing their apology session was actual therapy for me because it literally drove me insane that they never got to have a proper hashing-out of all of the baggage and trauma and poor decisions that led to them constantly hurting each other :( good thing we can fix-it!!
> 
> anyways, sorry that this fic keeps stretching on forever and ever. it is the longest thing I've ever written simply because I can't stop writing and adding random scenes that feel like part of this story.
> 
> that being said, I am definitely wrapping this baby up soon, because I have so many other story ideas that are calling my name! so I've decided to write one more chapter (for real this time) and an epilogue!! chapter 6 should be published by the end of the week (also for real this time)!!!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!!! the last real chapter! only an epilogue to go. I can't believe this story is coming to an end :( it started as a literal 4k baby fix-it and somehow transformed into this monster!!! I had one thing left to fix in this chapter: the infamous nail (or rebar, if we're being technical), because you KNOW I couldn't just let that excruciatingly bad fever dream of a scene remain unedited in my brain for a second longer. please enjoy!!!! and thank you thank you thank you for reading :)

Castiel had been away from Earth for a while. Because time seemed to move differently in Heaven, he wasn’t precisely sure how long he’d been gone, but he knew it was far longer than he preferred. Longer than he’d preferred to be away from Dean.

Their heavenly construction project was arduous, a herculean task, really, but they had come a long way already. And, after enlisting some other angels for help, things had really started to move along. Castiel estimated that, in human time, they had only a few months left of work to go before they could officially wrap things up here.

At the moment, he was restructuring some new areas of the realm, helping Jack with the terrain on some particularly tricky regions. He had figured that the more work he finished before going back to Earth, the less he would have to spend on the next trip. If he could get a substantial amount of work done in one fell swoop, he could abbreviate his next stay in Heaven.

Not that he minded helping Jack with his big renovation project. He loved it. He loved feeling useful, and he loved being able to spend time with him here. But, he missed Dean. He pretty much missed Dean from the moment they parted, every single time they parted. By the end of his stays, he was always bone-tired, riddled with exhaustion, and more than ready to go home to him.

He was working on forming a new body of water, trying to perfectly emulate the glasslike, sparkling surface that it was modeled after when he felt it.

A sharp pang in his chest. It felt like a bullet ripping straight through his being. He knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. Worse. Something was terribly wrong with _Dean_. He fell to his knees, feeling a cold sweat wash over him in panic.

First, he heard Dean.

_“Cas—”_ The prayer came out ragged and breathy. _“Castiel, I messed up real bad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Can you get here? Please? Before I… before I go. I’m… I need you here—”_

Then came Sam.

_“Cas?”_ His voice was frantic. _“Can you hear me? You need to— you need to get down here quick. Dean is— he’s in real bad shape. I don’t…”_ Distantly, Castiel could hear him swallow. _“He might be beyond help, Cas. God… it’s not looking good. Help him. Please, help him.”_

Castiel made it to the location to which he had been summoned in record speed. He could feel his heart hammering inside his chest as he took in the barn and its surroundings. His eyes scanned the premises, anxiously searching.

“Dean?” he shouted, desperation coloring the name. “Dean, where are you?”

After a moment, he heard Sam shouting for him from inside the barn. He made a beeline for the heavy door and opened it, quickly entering the building.

He sucked in a breath at what he found there.

Sam was huddled in front of Dean, whose wilted form was sagging against one of the barn’s rickety support beams. Dean's skin was pallid, and his lips looked to be blue. His eyes were closed. He looked seconds away from death.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. In the center of his torso, a large red stain of blood had bloomed. It stood out in shocking contrast to the light fabric of his shirt.

Castiel ran to them, inspecting the gruesome scene before him. He felt his eyes widen when he found the source of the bleeding. Dean had been impaled. And from the looks of it, his vital organs hadn’t been spared in the process.

He allowed himself less than a second to process the anxious energy thrumming through his body. To process the dread that had already begun to fill his lungs, leaving him feeling constricted and breathless. He focused himself, then sprung into action.

He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, silently asking him to step back.

“Cas, please.” Tears streaked his cheeks and fear laced his words. “Tell me you can save him.”

He replaced Sam in front of Dean, and thought those words over. He didn’t know if he had the power to save him, but he knew that he’d die trying. He slowly lifted his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. Dean leaned into the touch, his face somehow shifting into a happy expression despite the circumstances, as though he had subconsciously registered Castiel’s presence.

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“No— no, he said not to.” Sam laughed without a trace of humor. There was a chaotic, unhinged edge to his words. “Said it was pointless.”

“Call an ambulance, Sam.”

It was an order. He had said it without once taking his eyes off Dean. Sam wasted no time backing away and following it, allowing Castiel some space.

Almost immediately after Sam had stepped away, Dean’s eyes had fluttered open.

“Cas?” he said, a hint of a smile gracing his ashen face.

“Hello, Dean.”

“You’re here,” he murmured, incredulous. “You’re really here.”

One of Castiel’s hands began to move almost automatically, pushing Dean’s hair off of his forehead in a soothing motion.

“Of course,” he replied softly, barely above a whisper. “Of course I am. I’ll always, always come when you call. You know that.”

Dean let out a little, stunned laugh at that. Then, more tears began to cascade from his eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Castiel rushed to soothe. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine.”

“Cas...”

“Shh…” 

“Cas, I— I’m sorry…”

“No, Dean. None of that.” Castiel shook his head as he attempted to school his features so as not to worry Dean further. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

“Cut the crap,” he said with a pained chuckle, his voice breathy. “I’m like ninety-nine percent sure I’m as good as dead.”

Castiel gave him a sad smile, then took one of Dean’s slack hands from his side and raised it to his mouth. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it and watched as Dean let out a labored sigh, his eyes falling to a close.

For a moment, Castiel couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of him, suspended in a state of awe. He stared at the sweep of his eyelashes fanning out atop the freckled skin of his cheeks. At his brow, slightly furrowed with the effort of keeping himself alive. At the strained breaths he was forcing himself to take, one after the other after the other. At his hands, white-knuckled where they were gripped to Castiel’s sleeves as he somehow, impossibly, pushed through the immeasurable pain he was experiencing.

Dean was clinging onto life, fighting against the alluring pull of death with everything he had. Anyone else in his situation would’ve been long dead by now, but not him. Never him.

He was the strongest and bravest man Castiel had ever met. And he loved him dearly.

Castiel felt his jaw clench.

There was no way in Hell he was letting him die.

“You’re not dying, Dean. Not today. Not like this.”

“Cas…” He shook his head minutely. Then, suddenly, he locked his gaze on the angel. His eyes shined like this was the last time he’d see him. He was struggling to keep them open. “Cas, I love you. So much. You know that right? You gotta know,” he said, desperation permeating his words. “And I’m— I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. _God_ , I'm so sorry."

Castiel felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He sucked in a breath, trying to gather himself, then cupped Dean’s face again, smiling for his benefit.

“I know, Dean.” His voice wavered a bit, emotion threatening to consume him. “I love you, too. I love you more than anything in the universe. I do.” His thumb sweeped lightly over Dean’s cheek, where tears had started to gather. “But you’re not dying.”

“I am,” Dean choked out. “I can feel it. I don’t… I don’t want to die, Cas.”

Castiel could feel his heart breaking at the pain and fear in his voice.

“You _won’t,_ ” Castiel stated, his tone steely and uncompromising. “Look at me.” Dean did. The light in his eyes had dimmed considerably. “I won’t let you die. I promise.”

Dean didn’t seem to give those words much credence. “Cas, can you— can you tell me again? Just one more time? Please, I-I need to…”

Somehow, Castiel knew exactly what he was asking for. He physically ached at the thought that Dean hadn’t heard the words nearly as much as he had deserved to.

“Dean Winchester,” he breathed, fierce passion curling around the name with intensity. “I love you. You’re the love of my life. I’ll tell you however many times you want or need to hear it, because it’s the truth. If you were actually dying, I’d spend your last minutes reminding you of how amazing and deserving and beautiful you are.”

Dean’s face had shifted from pained to peaceful, like Castiel’s words had provided him some kind of absolution.

“But you’re _not_ dying, so—” He swallowed, and then his hands moved from Dean’s face to his shoulders. He gripped them tightly. “This is going to hurt, but it will all be over soon,” he said with a grimace, like the words themselves could further injure Dean. “I promise.”

He pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and lingered there for just a moment, preparing himself.

“I’m sorry.”

He exhaled roughly, then used all of his might to pull Dean toward him, off of the rebar that had impaled him. Dean released a low, blood-curdling scream of pain as the metal cruelly made its exit without regard to the intricate inner workings of the body it had imposed upon. The sound flooded Castiel’s veins with cold terror and anguish.

As soon as he was free, he got to work. Dean had slumped against him, and Castiel was now holding up the entirety of his weight in an embrace. His hands moved into position, pressed into Dean’s back as close to the wound as he could manage without actually touching it. The thought of inflicting any more unnecessary suffering on him was distressing.

He focused all of his energy and thoughts on healing him. After a moment of intense concentration, he could feel his Grace beginning to flow through him and into Dean.

Dean let out a tiny gasp as the warmth hit him, but after a moment, it became evident that something was wrong. He wasn’t healing nearly as quickly as he should have been. His body still rested lifelessly against Castiel’s, arms limp at his side.

He was teetering impossibly close to the precipice of death, and Castiel was beginning to fear that he may not be able to pull him back. 

His eyes shut tightly as he exerted more power into healing him than he thought possible. A labored groan escaped him, the effort overwhelming his body. The light emanating from his hands grew to be blinding, filling the entire barn with intense whiteness.

“Stay with me, Dean,” he begged, “Please, stay with me.”

The longer it took, the more desperate Castiel became. He found himself silently praying. To Jack, to some greater, unknown force, he wasn’t sure. He would take whatever help he could get. From behind him, he faintly registered Sam panicking and frantically asking what he could do to help.

Castiel swallowed thickly and doubled down. He put forth all of his power, concentrated everything he had on Dean. On this one, beautiful man. This one beautiful, _reckless_ man, who would most certainly be receiving more than a few choice words from Castiel about defeating Lucifer, Michael, and _God himself_ , only to finally meet his match at the hands of a wall decoration. But that conversation could wait until he was safe, sound, and healthy, and without a gigantic, gaping wound in his back. That conversation could wait until he was healed.

_God_ , he needed Dean to heal.

With one final push, he felt his Grace pulse through his veins with ferocity. It flowed into Dean, radiating heat and raw power. A strained shout was ripped from Castiel’s throat, the massive transfer of Grace completely inundating his system.

Like an electrical surge, the lightbulbs overhead began to shatter wildly, causing sparks to descend to the ground in cascades. Then, all at once, the room exploded with a flash of blinding light for only a split second before it fell into extreme darkness.

The air was cold, prickling with lingering electricity. For a moment, they were met with radio silence, the atmosphere completely empty. Neither he nor Sam dared to speak or breathe. There was no sign of life or movement from Dean. Castiel felt weak from his exertion, barely managing to keep himself upright, let alone Dean.

He was seconds away from falling to his knees in despair when Dean’s eyes suddenly sprang open.

He inhaled in a panic, as though he hadn’t had a breath of fresh air in decades. He looked at Castiel with a wild expression, eyes wide and mouth open, panting.

“Dean?” The name came out hesitant, amidst tears and a small, disbelieving smile. “Are you alright?” Castiel cupped his face, staring him down as if it could somehow guide him to the answer. When Dean’s eyes had opened, all of the weakness the angel had felt in his bones seconds ago had miraculously vanished.

Dean took Castiel in with incredulity, then nodded, at a loss for words.

Relieved, the angel pulled him into a careful embrace, mindful of the fatal wound that his body had sustained only seconds prior.

“ _Never_ do that again,” Castiel pleaded, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “Please.”

“Alright.”

Dean pulled him in closer, tracing circular patterns into his back, as if Castiel was the one who needed comfort in the moment.

The angel stepped back and framed his face with his hands, staring into his eyes intensely. He needed to make sure that Dean was actually alive and that he wasn’t hallucinating.

He had been so, so close to losing him.

“I’m okay, Cas.” Dean placed his hands over the angel’s like the action could reinforce his words. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“Please.” Castiel shook his head dismissively. “Don't even attempt to apologize to me less than five minutes after being fatally wounded. I’m not worried about anything apart from your wellbeing.”

Distantly, the blaring sound of an ambulance siren began to grow increasingly louder.

“Speaking of, the ambulance is almost here.”

Dean scoffed. “I’m fine, I don’t need an amb—”

“You’re getting in the ambulance,” Castiel and Sam announced in unison, unamused.

It was then that Castiel finally looked behind himself to find Sam, who he had momentarily forgotten was there, staring at Dean like he had just dragged him through Hell and back in the span of ten minutes. Castiel turned back to Dean and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then, a bit reluctantly, stepped away to allow Sam the space to go to him. He immediately pulled his brother into a bear hug and whispered something along the lines of ‘ _I can’t believe you almost got literally nailed to death, dumbass’_ and _‘Don’t let it happen again.’_

Castiel used the interlude to attempt to compose himself. He glanced down at his hands to find them shaking almost uncontrollably with lingering anxiety. He turned them over and stared at the lines etched into his palms. He needed something to focus on, something to calm his racing mind. He was still in a state of shock. In a matter of minutes, he had gone from trying to properly color a lake in Heaven to frantically trying to save Dean from certain death.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to shake the dark thoughts that were currently cycling through his brain. Thoughts about what would have transpired had he not showed up in time. 

He had been lucky. So, so lucky.

If he had shown up even a second later, Dean would’ve—

“Cas?”

His thoughts were interrupted by Dean, who was now standing in front of him with a look of concern. Castiel glanced to the side and found Sam talking to the paramedic. Apparently, the ambulance had arrived at some point during his introspective spiraling.

“Hey.” Dean carefully wiped underneath the angel’s eyes, ridding him of the tears that had evidently gathered there without his notice. “It’s alright, Cas.”

“Dean.” His voice came out choked and hollow. “You almost—”

“It’s alright.” Dean dragged one of Castiel’s hands to his chest, pressing his palm against the fabric of his shirt. Castiel could feel his heart beating there, strong and true, valiantly rebelling against the trauma it had faced only minutes ago. “ _I’m_ alright. I’m alive and breathing, and I’m standing right in front of you. You saved me.”

Castiel closed his eyes and just stood there, allowing himself to bask in the soothing pound of the heartbeat pulsing strongly beneath his palm. It was therapeutic.

_Thump._

He inhaled.

_Thump._

He released his breath slowly.

_Thump._

“Dean, you ready to go?” Sam asked, unwittingly interrupting the moment.

“Hold on a minute,” Dean ordered, his eyes still locked on Castiel, worried.

“You should go, Dean.”

“Cas,” he whispered, hesitant. “You’re all shook up. I don’t feel right leaving you right now.”

The angel sighed, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s lips.

“I’m fine, but I’d feel much better if you were checked out by an actual, licensed physician.” He smiled, feeling that it was probably a bit wobbly. “Go. Sam and I will meet you there.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Dean nodded, then kissed Castiel again. This one lingered a bit longer than the last, Dean shifting his head to change the angle more than once.

“Okay, enough of that, for the love of God.”

Dean smirked at Sam’s annoyance. “Get used to it, Sammy.” He turned back to Castiel. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who keeps _me_ waiting,” he reminded him. “Sometimes for over a decade.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance, but when he glanced back at Castiel, he had an infectious smile on his face.

He bid Sam and Castiel a final goodbye before climbing into the back of the ambulance begrudgingly.

Castiel watched as the vehicle drove away, its lights disappearing into the distance.

—

Several hours later, Castiel sat beside Dean on his hospital bed while he waited for him to finish fake-filling out his discharge form.

Dean had been checked out by a nurse, who, after running a few tests, was shocked to discover that he was apparently suffering from acute blood loss, despite the complete lack of an entrance or exit wound of any kind.

Castiel supposed, though he couldn’t say for certain, that due to the severity of Dean’s wound, his Grace had only been able to heal it and seal inside whatever blood he still had in his body. Apparently, he hadn’t had enough power to restore all the blood he had already lost.

But, thanks to modern medicine, a blood transfusion, an IV line, and some dubious green hospital Jell-O later, Dean was right as rain. His color had come back, and he appeared to have made a complete recovery, which was a miracle, to say the least, considering he was as good as dead mere hours ago.

Dean finished up his scribbling and finalized the form with a ridiculously oversized and loopy signature of _Benjamin Dover._

He put the pen and the clipboard down on the table beside the bed and brushed his hands together, as if ridding himself of the task.

Finally, he turned to Castiel with a smile, presumably to ask if he was ready to go, only to pause when he discovered that the angel had been staring, emotionless, at where their hands were joined together on the bed. Then, he seemed to make the realization that Castiel had been doing the exact same thing for the past fifteen minutes while Dean had worked on the form.

“Cas? You alright?”

Castiel was, patently, not alright. In fact, he was currently struggling to rid his mind of the gut-wrenching image of Dean bleeding out and seconds away from death with a piece of rusty rebar spearing through his torso. He felt sick.

“Cas,” Dean said gently. “Look at me.”

And, because he’s never been one to disobey Dean’s orders, he looked up to find Dean gazing at him with a soft expression.

“There you are, sunshine,” he said, smiling with the words. “I need to tell you something.”

Castiel nodded silently, signaling for him to continue.

Dean took a deep breath. Then, he said simply, “I wanna quit.”

Castiel felt like his brain was short circuiting with the words.

“What?”

“Hunting,” he said, as if it would do anything at all to help clarify the matter. It didn’t.

Castiel blinked.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t understand.”

Dean released a long-suffering sigh, then took Castiel’s face in his hands.

“I want to stop hunting.”

And that’s when Castiel stopped breathing.

“You— you what?”

“I want to stop hunting,” he repeated, just as steadily as the first time he had said it. His voice was unwavering, with no trace of ambivalence.

Castiel could not believe what he was hearing. He hadn’t expected to hear those words from Dean in a million years. His heart was beating wildly inside his chest at the idea of Dean closing the door on his life of hunting and keeping himself decidedly out of harm’s way. Keeping himself _safe_.

But, in the back of his mind, Castiel couldn’t help but question it. This sudden readiness to throw in the towel and give up the job he’d been doing for his entire life.

“Why?”

“Why?” Dean repeated, his eyebrows knitting together. “Look around, Cas.” Dean gestured to their surroundings generally, apparently pointing out the fact that they were at a hospital. “I almost died today. Like, was really fucking close to actually becoming Jack’s new full-time construction worker upstairs.”

“Dean…” Castiel whispered, pained at the memory of Dean’s limp form sagging against the support beam, blood rapidly draining from his body.

Dean squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“Look, I meant what I said back there, Cas. I don’t want to die. And if I keep doing what I’ve been doing, it’s only a matter of time before something ends me,” he said intensely. “You never know, the next time I suffer serious bodily injury, you might not be able to get to me in time.” Castiel swallowed thickly against his emotion. “And…” Dean hesitated, “I could see what that did to you, Cas.” He looked down, sullen on behalf of Castiel. “I don’t want to put you through that again. I don’t want you to have to constantly worry about me and whether I’m okay. It’s— it’s not fair to you. I can’t expect you to just standby and twiddle your thumbs every time I hunt, hoping that I make it out in one piece.”

Castiel couldn’t help but frown.

“Hey.” Dean used a thumb to smooth out the lines in Castiel’s forehead that had crinkled there as a result of his disgruntlement. “What’s wrong?”

“I would be lying if I said that I enjoy you risking your life on a daily basis. I don’t. But I also don’t want you to give up hunting forever on my account," he stated, slightly anxious that Dean thought he would ever expect such a thing from him. "And besides, once we finish up in Heaven, I could go with you. Like before. I'd feel better if we went together." Dean smiled warmly at that. "But Dean, I would never ask you to give up something that you love for my comfort.”

“ _Something that I love?_ ” Dean questioned, sounding affronted. “Are you kidding?”

Castiel blinked, perplexed. “No. I was being serious.”

Dean laughed at Castiel’s obvious confusion. He leaned forward and pressed a helpless kiss to Castiel’s cheek.

“I love _you_ , Cas,” he said fervently, and the angel could feel his heart skip a beat. Those words never failed to have an impact on him. “And, just to be clear, I would do anything for you. I would give up anything for you. _Anything_ . But hunting? I don’t love hunting.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I never wanted this. _Never_. My life was chosen for me from the moment my mom died. My dad chose the hunting path for me, and I walked it. And maybe, now that we know what we know, with Chuck and the whole,” he gesticulated lazily, “lack-of-free-will thing… maybe the first half of my life was always going to be hunting. Maybe I never had a say.”

Castiel nodded, understanding. “But now you do.”

“But now I do,” Dean confirmed with a smile. “And Cas, for the life of me, I can’t think of a single reason why I should keep hunting. I mean, it’s not like I _want_ to! In fact, I think the only reason why I haven’t already stopped is because I’m so used to it that I don't know _how_. So used to waking up, ganking things, going to bed, and repeating. And it's also because,” he paused, thinking. “Because I don’t really know who I am without hunting. And that’s kind of scary.”

Castiel levelled him an unimpressed look. “There’s always been so much more to you than hunting, Dean.”

“Thanks, you old sap.” He kissed him chastely to soften his words. “I appreciate it, but that wasn’t my point. My point was that I have a say now.”

“You do. Do you know what you want to do with your say?”

He looked at Castiel pointedly. “I have a few ideas.”

Castiel smiled brightly, and he instantly saw his expression reflected on Dean’s face.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, Cas. Actually, I have _a lot_ of ideas. And exactly all of them involve you.”

Castiel laughed. He felt effervescent, so uncontrollably happy that he felt like he could burst with it at any time.

“Care to share any?”

“Well, for starters,” Dean said, his head tilting. “I say we find ourselves a new place to live. A place that, at minimum, is above ground and has an actual roof, like, with shingles. You know, white picket fence, nosy neighbors, the whole shebang.”

Castiel stared at him incredulously. The idea of living with Dean in a house of their own, it was something he didn’t dare to even dream about.

“You want that? With me?”

“Cas,” he said flatly, “I want _everything_ with you. When are you gonna get it through that thick angel skull of yours?”

Castiel looked to the side and squinted his eyes in an exaggerated expression of deep thought.

“Actually, my skull is human. And, if we’re being technical—”

“We’re not,” Dean cut him off, unamused. “Anyways, to me, everything about you is angelic.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Castiel blinked. “Was that an attempt at flirtation?”

“Depends. Did it work?”

He huffed out a helpless laugh. Then, having absolutely no words left to say, he wrapped his arms around Dean and fell into him, embracing this perfect human who, for whatever reason, wanted to build a home and a life with him.

“I love you.”

Dean hummed happily. “I love you too,” He ran his hand up and down Castiel’s back idly. “What do you say we get out of here? I’m starting to smell like hospital.”

Castiel laughed, then stood up, offering Dean a hand.

“Let’s go.”

The two walked out of the hospital hand in hand, and as the doors slid to a close behind them, Castiel got the sense that they were leaving behind not just the blood and the bandages, but also the endless war and violence that had needlessly plagued their past. He got the sense that they were stepping into a new life entirely. And while, normally, the thought of such change and unpredictability might frighten him, Castiel felt perfectly at ease with the knowledge that whatever their future looked like, it would be just that. _Theirs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all that's left is a soft epilogue. because it's what dean and cas deserve!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)
> 
> if you're interested, I also wrote a one-shot fix-it fic called "but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now," in which the entire finale was but a dream! you can find it under my works.
> 
> tumblr: kaysars-fbi-hat  
> let's talk!


End file.
